


The Last Night

by Felixbug



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3291122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felixbug/pseuds/Felixbug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders spends a last night at the Hawke estate before the Chantry explosion. Hawke confronts Justice about his treatment of Anders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fic, I'm still proud as heck of how it turned out but it's definitely the odd one out in my endless pile of smut haha. Definitely not remotely connected to Breaking the Silence continuity, I wrote this before I figured out my OT3 headcanons I just knew I shipped it so much it hurt. So, have the thing :)

Anders had stumbled home – Hawke would think of it as his home even if Anders was incapable of believing it – drenched to the skin from the rain. The dark circles under his eyes would have told Hawke he hadn’t slept in days even if he hadn’t admitted it, but he did, apologising as Hawke helped him haltingly up the stairs. In three years, Anders had never learned that Hawke didn’t expect him to apologise for – for what? For suffering? For needing to be taken care of when things got rough? Still, Hawke tried to tell him, for the thousandth time, that he didn’t mind – Maker, he was just glad Anders was  _home,_ that he was alive.

“How can he do this to you?” Hawke snarled, peeling Anders out of layers of dripping feathers and cloth. He gasped as Anders’s shirt fell away, revealing a drastically thinner body than he was used to. “This isn’t fair to you, it isn’t _just_  – how can he – “

“Justice tried t-to bring me here two days ago,” Anders said. He was shivering from head to foot, and his voice shook. “I just - just needed more time. I’ll sleep for a f-few hours, then I – “

“No.” Hawke pulled the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around Anders as tenderly as he could manage. He was shaking too, a potent mixture of fury at Justice and shock, a result of days of worry. “Justice can have you back when you’re rested – really rested – and you’ve eaten. Or are you going to tell me starving yourself was your idea too?”

“There’s been n-no time.”

Anders let Hawke pull him down to the floor in front of the fire, but shrank away from physical closeness. He leaned back against the warm stone wall with a sigh, running his fingers through his damp hair. Hawke crouched in front of him helplessly. Pushing Anders to let him in would only drive him further away – if he’d learned anything over the weeks since they’d returned from the drakestone mine at the Bone Pit, it was that. Their relationship had changed overnight – and as he always had before, Hawke had adjusted. Life with Anders had never been simple. They’d worked around Justice’s disapproval and the long hours Anders spent in the clinic. What time they had together was precious, though - Anders had never shrunk away from it. Whatever new burden Anders was carrying, he would do anything to avoid Hawke sharing it.

“No time? Why?” Hawke asked. For once, Anders didn’t look away. He toyed with the frayed edge of the blanket, his shoulders rounded inwards, but he forced himself not to break eye contact. The truth then, this time.

“I was trying to find a – a different way.” He shuddered and pulled the blanket closer. “A better way.”

Hawke held his tongue and waited, watching as Anders’s face contorted.

“I don’t think there is one,” he said hollowly.

“Is this about whatever you did when I spoke to the Grand Cleric?”

There was a flash of blue light – so brief Hawke could have missed it if he’d blinked at the wrong moment, and when it faded Anders wasn’t looking at him anymore.

“Can we leave it, Garrett?”

“Is that what you want – or what Justice wants?”

“I’m not even sure there’s still a difference.” He shook his head. “I told you – it’s not like he’s a voice in my head. When we agree, I can’t tell whose thoughts are whose. When we don’t it’s – it’s more obvious, but it’s not like a conversation.”

“I know that.”

“Then stop asking me about him as if I’m not here!” His voice was hoarse, furious and desperate.

Anders’s face was all angles in the firelight – planes of pale skin turned to gold in the low light, and hollows of deep shadow. He was breath-taking, even like this, and when he suddenly reached for Hawke and pulled him closer Hawke didn’t resist the fierce, lip-bruising kiss that followed.

It would have been easy to let it overtake everything else. Anders’s hand snaked under his shirt and grabbed his hip, and Hawke tangled his fingers in Anders’s hair, not caring about the cold rainwater that trickled down his wrist. But, now more than ever, he could feel Justice hovering just beneath the surface. There was the faintest taste of something sharp and bitter on his tongue as it skimmed Anders’s lower lip, a prickling in his skin as his hair stood on end, and an oppressive warmth in the air, thick and humid like the moment before a thunderstorm. He drew back, leaving Anders panting.

“What are we doing?” Hawke said, reluctantly dropping his hand to Anders’s shoulder. “You came here to sleep. Even Justice knows you’re exhausted.”

“I don’t know,” said Anders miserably. “I shouldn’t have come here – selfish, _unjust._ I just don’t want to be alone tonight. I won’t-“ Anders bit back his words and dropped his gaze again. “I don’t know how soon I’ll be able to spend another night here.”

Hawke’s stomach dropped, but he knew better than to demand the truth. Whatever Anders wanted to say, he – or Justice – was holding it back. Hawke couldn’t know what was coming, but he knew a goodbye when he heard one – another of Anders’s infuriating apologies, and a desperate plea to be believed, if only for a little while longer. He could give him that. He wouldn’t drive him away.

***

“I knew it was a lie from the start. The potion, I mean.”

Hawke spoke softly, brushing a lock of Anders’s blond hair behind his ear with his fingertips. He felt Anders flinch as if the sentence was a shouted accusation, and gently brushed his fingers down the raised bumps of his spine.

“Then why – “

“Why did I help?” Hawke skimmed his hand down Anders’s side, feeling the outline of his ribs sharply against his palm. It had been weeks since they’d had a chance to be this close, lying in bed with Anders pulled tight against Hawke’s chest. He’d disappeared for days at a time, visiting the mansion only briefly and never staying the night, never letting his guard down. In that time he seemed to have shrunk almost to nothing, pale skin stretched taught over ridges of bone.

“Because you asked,” he said, wrapping his arm around Anders’s waist and pulling him closer. “And you said you were sure this was what you wanted, and that was enough. It still is – I’m just – you’re scaring me, Anders.”

Anders flinched again, but his hand found Hawke’s and squeezed it tightly. They lay in silence for a time as the fire began to die down, the only sound the crackling embers and their own breaths.

“You’re leaving,” Hawke said, and it wasn’t a question. “I don’t know – Maker, Anders, I don’t know what’s happening to you. If it’s something Justice is making you do, or your Calling, or –“

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” Hawke hated the edge of anger in his voice and pressed his forehead against Anders’s back, breathing in the scent of his skin and tightening his grip. “I’m just not ready. Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said, don’t.” Hawke wondered if he was holding too tight – he could feel Anders’s skin dented beneath his fingers, the raised line of his spine digging back into Hawke’s chest. “Don’t leave without waking me,” he said, hating the pleading note in his voice. “Can you promise me that, at least?”

“I promise,” said Anders, but Hawke couldn’t see his face and he wasn’t sure he could believe him, not anymore. He didn’t relax his grip. If Anders wanted to struggle free of his arms, he would  _have to_  wake him.

***

Hawke awoke with a start, jerking upright in bed. It was dark – the fire had gone out and the room was utterly black. For a split second, Hawke couldn’t place why that felt wrong – then he remembered.  _Anders._ His sleeping body was constantly lit by Justice’s restless glow. Hawke groped blindly in the dark at the empty space next to him. It was still warm.

He rolled out of bed, fumbling in the dark until he found his discarded clothing. It took all his self-control not to burst out of the door and race down the stairs, but he knew that being arrested for running naked through Hightown wouldn’t help bring Anders back. He dressed quickly, half way out of the bedroom door as he pulled his shirt over his head. As he pushed his tousled hair back, he realised he could see. The entrance hall below was lit with a fierce blue glow.

Anders – no, Justice – stood at the foot of the stairs. He stood unnaturally still, only his head moving as he slowly looked around the room as if committing it to memory. Hawke froze, watching him for a moment. He was as intimidating as ever, poised, almost elegant, with his back held rigidly straight and an inquisitive but haughty tilt to his head. He was beautiful – and not just because of the body he inhabited – but Anders had always been clear that he was not safe to approach, as if Hawke had needed the warnings after the confrontation with Ser Alrik. But when Justice took a step forward, he reacted without thought.

“You’re not taking him.” He strode down the stairs, hands curling into fists.

Justice turned. His face was expressionless, but his stance shifted subtly, as if preparing for combat. Hawke was unarmed, and wasn’t sure he could have brought himself to attack Justice if he wasn’t. There were times he almost hated the spirit. More often, hate was far too simple a term for the intense mixture of emotions he inspired – for better or worse, he was still part of Anders. Whatever Hawke felt, it was Anders who would have to endure the injuries if they fought.

“The choice is not yours to make,” said Justice. His deep, commanding voice echoed off the stone walls, and although Hawke was still a few steps above him, he felt several inches shorter.

“But it’s yours?” He forced himself to take the remaining steps down to meet Justice face to face, hoping the spirit was as poor at reading facial expressions as Anders had always claimed. “Where are you taking him?”

“Nowhere he does not wish to go.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only answer I am prepared to give.” Justice tilted his head, glowing eyes narrowing. “You permit Anders his secrets. You accept lies. You allow his unjust treatment of you. Why?”

“Because I love him.” Hawke’s voice broke but he dug his fingernails into his palms and took another step forward. “Because I trust him. Not – not to tell me the truth. But I trust his reasons. Whatever they are.”

“But you do not trust me.” There was no anger in his tone, and something in his body relaxed – a slight loosening of tension. If it weren’t for the glow, Hawke could almost have believed he was Anders. There were still differences though. His hands hovered awkwardly by his sides, not quite hanging loose, and his face was still infuriatingly calm.

“Trust you?” said Hawke. “No, I don’t.”

“In truth, I am – uncertain if I trust myself,” Justice said. “There was a purity of intent, in the time before I inhabited this form. It is – lacking.”

“How dare you blame Anders for this – you’ve taken over his life, taken everything he – “

“Your belief is false.” Justice hesitated for a moment, then reached out his slender, glowing hand and rested it on Hawke’s shoulder. Hawke couldn’t ignore the way his stomach dropped – Justice had proven more than once that he was deadly, and easily provoked. But he made no move to attack, his hand simply rested, almost awkwardly. “And it is not a matter of blame. Anders and I have both sacrificed much. And we are in agreement,” he said finally. “What must be done was decided by us both, and each of us is prepared for what it must cost.”

“That’s why you’re controlling him, is it? Why you’ve taken over to drag him out of here in the middle of the night?”

“You misunderstand. Mortal beings – you are weak. Your pain is – powerful, intense. I had not thought to experience its like. Anders’s mind is heavy with it. I experience it with him, yet it is only a fraction of what he carries. I wished to shield him from this.”

“Bullshit.” Hawke brushed Justice’s hand from his shoulder furiously. “You’re nothing but Justice – or Vengeance, whatever you’ve turned into. I’ve seen you work Anders until he collapses, deny him food, rest – “

“It was regrettable.”

“All you care about is the cause – you’ve never tried to spare him from suffering.”

“You will not believe I am capable of change, yet you believe I am able to lie?”

Hawke fell silent. Even Anders could barely lie – certainly not convincingly – with Justice at the back of his mind. He studied Justice’s face, desperately searching for any hint of an expression, any possibility of human feeling. What stared back was utterly alien, but perhaps – there was something in the eyes, more vulnerability than Hawke had ever witnessed.

“It would kill Anders to lose you,” Justice said. “What I know of this body tells me such a thing is impossible, yet he feels it absolutely.”

“It’s a metaphor,” Hawke snapped.

“I am not certain that it is.” He shook his head. “Leaving tonight is – harder, than I anticipated. But it would have destroyed him. You believe this is an injustice – and so perhaps it is. I no longer trust my judgement, but through Anders, I have come to trust yours – it is an essential part of the decisions I have allowed us to make. And I have learned other things. I have been altered by my time bound to mortal flesh. I – perhaps I am lessened by it. Anders believes his anger has corrupted me – I do not know that he is wrong. But I know I learned other lessons from observing him.”

“So this is – what, mercy? From you?”

“Is the idea difficult for you to believe?”

“That a spirit of Justice is merciful?” Hawke laughed bitterly. “Yes.”

“I do not wish for us to part on these terms.” Justice stalked forward and gripped Hawke’s shoulder again – firmly, this time, almost bruising the skin. “Anders believed you would come to hate him, as you have always despised me. He believed it was necessary – that it would benefit you, when the events that must follow come to pass. It was his choice to leave while you slept – not mine. It is one of the few remaining things on which he and I disagree. But I respect him – I owe him – so I did what I could to ease his suffering. Accept it, or do not. There is nothing else I can offer.”

“Try the truth.” Justice started to pull away, and Hawke gripped the slippery, delicate feathers of his coat and held him in place. He didn’t doubt for a second that Justice was stronger, but the gesture seemed to be enough to lock him in place.

“The truth is that you do not deserve the pain we have brought you,” he said. “It was an injustice – one I fought against for years.”

“Anders was stronger than you – “

“No. He was simply easier prey for desire, and I do not have sufficient strength to control us both.”

Hawke stared into Justice’s eyes – as impenetrable as ever, but somehow they seemed less cold, less distant. He remembered the sensation during the sudden, heated kiss – the second presence in Anders, just beneath the skin. Not trying to interfere, as he’d thought – but  _participating_. Giving in – finally, giving in to the strange, uneasy chemistry that had existed between them for years.

“Stay,” he said. “Both of you, please. Stay.”

“It is no longer possible,” Justice said. “But I am – I am grateful, that you followed me tonight. These last three years I have lain awake beside you as Anders slept and desired this – communication. The emotional intimacy you and he share.” He released Hawke’s shoulder and touched his face – as awkward as before, but more gentle than Hawke had ever seen him. “It is a relief to know I was not so unwanted after all.”

Hawke leaned in, tightening his grip on Justice’s coat. This was all wrong – he was losing Anders, losing Justice before he’d even truly begun to understand what existed between them. He wanted to scream at him to let Anders go. He wanted Anders back, not this inhuman creature wearing his skin. He wanted to feel that fade-tinged kiss again and never let go of the beautiful being in front of him.

“I’m not ready,” he pleaded again.

“I know.” Justice swayed forward slightly, his face only inches from Hawke’s. Then he dropped his hand from Hawke’s face and slowly, firmly, peeled Hawke’s hands from his coat.

Hawke didn’t fight. He stood, shivering slightly in the icy night air as Justice paced away. He turned at the door, and finally – Maker damn him,  _finally –_ there was an expression on his face. He looked broken – and in pain he looked just like Anders.

“Anders is sorry for my actions,” Justice said. “And he is sorry for the pain we will cause you.”

***

Kirkwall was burning. Hawke tried to convince himself it wasn’t as bad as it looked – against the night sky, every fire seemed magnified, the only source of light except the distant stars. The salt-spray from the ocean whipped his hair back from his face and the icy wind burned his cheeks, and he turned away.

“Regrets?” Asked Fenris shortly, glancing back at the city and then scowling at Hawke.

“Leave him be,” said Isabela, slipping an arm around his waist and shooting him a sultry smile. “Come on, come and smoulder over here where I can enjoy it, hmm? Captain’s orders, no arguing.” She winked at Hawke over her shoulder as she led Fenris away to the front of the ship, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She’d defuse the tension for as long as she could, but Hawke doubted Fenris would be quick to forgive the choices he’d made. Perhaps he never would.

Hawke descended below decks, stumbling with the sickening lurches of the ship beneath his feet. If he’d known they’d be going on the run he’d have made plans that didn’t involve boarding Isabela’s ship in the middle of the night without any money or any idea where they were running to. Preferably, those plans would have involved staying on dry land where they belonged. He’d never understand Isabela’s preference for life at sea – and he hoped he wouldn’t be stuck on her ship long enough to try.

He paused outside his cabin, palm flattened against the door. Things had been – not easy, exactly, there had been nothing easy about anything that had happened after the Chantry exploded. But simple. Decisions were made quickly, the only decisions that  _could_ be made. Imperfect, messy, but he’d done what he’d had to without a moment of pause. His blood ran cold at the thought of how much worse it could have been – if Fenris or Aveline had sided against him, as he’d thought they might. If Sebastian’s threats had been more direct, more believable. He wasn’t sure how far he’d have gone to defend Anders and the mages – or perhaps he was sure, and didn’t want to think about it. Then they’d been fighting for their lives against almost impossible odds – he had barely considered what would come after if they all survived.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“What did Isabela say?” Anders asked immediately, rising to his feet. Dust and ashes streaked his coat, and there was dried blood in the tips of his loose blond hair. But he was alive, and he was here, and Hawke was starting to think he might have been willing to burn Kirkwall to the ground himself if it meant he could keep him that way.

“We can stay,” he said. “She said as long as we need but – things with Fenris are going to be tense. I don’t think she’d choose us over him if it came to it, and I wouldn’t ask her to.”

“I don’t know what happens now,” Anders admitted. He stood up from the bed and took a step towards Hawke, then hesitated as if uncertain he was allowed to touch. Hawke answered his unspoken question by taking his hand and giving his fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I didn’t expect to – well – Garrett I should be dead.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

“I – I still believe it was necessary,” he said, stumbling over his words. “I never – Maker, Garrett, I knew it would cost innocent lives but I had no idea. The scale of it – so much fire and blood, I never – but it had to be done. But I had no right to take those lives if I was unwilling to give my own. It would have been justice.”

“I knew he was to blame,” Hawke said, and it was half of a joke but Anders didn’t laugh and Hawke didn’t quite manage to either.

“He trusted you to do the right thing.”

“And I did.”

“I was right,” Anders said, turning away abruptly. “He should have let you hate me.”

“There was nothing either of you could have done about that,” Hawke said, and this time he managed a small smile as he took hold of Anders’s arm and turned him back to face him. “Is that what you think of me? That I’d forget how much I love you over a few rough weeks and a broken promise? Andraste’s tits, Anders, even Justice knows me better than that.”

“Then it wasn’t justice – your decision to let me live.” Anders’s face crumpled. “You don’t believe I deserve this – you just couldn’t do it. You felt sorry for me, you cared about me and– “

“No.” Hawke cupped Anders’s face between his hands and shook his head firmly. “Nothing is that simple. Justice and mercy and love can exist all mixed up together. None of them lessen the others.”

Anders took a long, shuddering breath, but when he finally smiled Hawke could see that there was real relief and joy in it. It would take time for them both to recover after everything that had been lost, but that smile was the hope Hawke had been looking for. Anders kissed him, unrestrained and eager, and as Hawke pulled him closer he tasted the fade on his lips. He doubted he would ever truly understand Justice, but he was open to trying, and for the first time he thought that Justice might be ready too. It was cooperation – it was a start.


End file.
